Rella refused to accept it. 'Since when do judicials pilot like that?'
'Who else could be piloting?' one of the humans asked. 'It sure isn't Neimoidians.' Cohl locked eyes with Rella.
'Jedi?' they said in unison.
Cohl considered it, then shook his head. 'What would the Jedi be doing out here? This isn't Republic space. Besides, no one-and I mean no one-knew about this operation.' Boiny and the rest were quick to agree. 'The captain's right. No one knew about this operation.' But the uncertainty in the Rodian's voice was glaring, and Cohl was suddenly aware that everyone was watching him.
'No one, Cohl?' Rella said leadingly.
He frowned at her. 'Outside the Nebula Front, anyway.' 'Maybe the Force told them,' Boiny mumbled.
Rella studied the displays. 'We might still make the Hawk — Bat' Cohl leaned toward the shuttle's wraparound viewport. 'Where is she?' 'Holding at the rendezvous point above Dorvalla's pole.' When, after a long moment, Cohl still hadn't responded, she added, 'I'll just keep flying in circles while you make your mind up about what to do.' Cohl looked at Boiny. 'Run a surface scan of the shuttle hull.' 'Surface scan?' the Rodian asked dubiously.
'Now,' Cohl said sharply.
Boiny bent over the console, then straightened in his seat.
'We're hosting a locator!' Cohl's eyes narrowed. 'They're hoping to track us.' 'Correction, Cohl,' Rella said. 'They are tracking us.' Cohl ignored the remark and glanced at Boiny again. 'How much time before the Revenue blows?'
'Seven minutes.' 'Can you calculate the shape of the freighter's explosion?'
Boiny and Rella swapped troubled glances. 'To a certain extent,' the Rodian said in a tentative voice.
'Do it. Then give me your best estimate of the blast radius and the extent of the debris cloud.' Boiny swallowed hard. 'Even my best estimate is going to be plus or minus a couple of hundred kilometers, Captain.' Cohl mulled it over in silence, then glanced at Rella. 'Come about-hard.' She stared at him. 'It's confirmed: You've lost your mind.' 'You heard me,' Cohl snapped. 'It's back to the freighter for us.' Just inside the magcon portal of the Acquisitor's portside hangar arm, Daultay Dofine crawled indecorously from the barrel-shaped escape pod the freighter's powerful tractor beam had retrieved.
The navigator and the rest followed him out.
Commander Lagard was on hand to meet them.
'It is an honor to rescue so celebrated a person,' Lagard said.
Dofine adjusted the fit of his robes and straightened his command miter.
'Yes, I'm sure it is,' he replied. 'Did you do as I asked and contact Viceroy Gunray?' Lagard indicated the Neimoidian mechno-chair that had probably conveyed him from the bridge. 'The viceroy is eager to hear what you have to report. As am I, Commander.' Dofine pushed past Lagard to get to the chair, which immediately began to move off in the direction of the centersphere- no doubt at Lagard's remote behest.
A product of Affodies Crafthouse of Pure Neimoidia, the curious and prohibitively costly device had two sickle-shaped rear legs that terminated in single-claw feet, and a pair of double — clawed articulated guidance limbs.
The laser-etched designs that covered its metallic surface were modeled after the shell ornamentation of Neimoidia's sovereign beetle. Gyroscopically balanced, the high-backed chair was more status symbol than practical mode of transport, but Dofine had grasped that the chair had not been provided for his benefit.
Where one would have sat was a circular hologram plate, from which projected the miniature holopresence of Viceroy Nute Gunray himself, leader of the Neimoidian Inner Circle and a member of the seven-person Trade Federation Directorate. Impediments of interstellar origin dazed the feed with diagonal lines of noise.
'Viceroy,' Dofine said, bowing in obeisance before he hurried to catch up with the slowly scuttling chair.
Gunray had a jutting lower jaw, and his thick lower lip was uncompanioned. A deep fissure separated his bulging forehead into two lateral lobes. His skin was kept a healthy gray-blue by means of frequent massages and meals of the finest fungus. Red and orange robes of exquisite hand fell from his narrow shoulders, along with a round-collared brown surplice that reached his knees.
Around his neck hung a pectoral of elongated teardrops of electrum, and a black tiara-triple-crested, with a pair of dangling tails-sat atop his regal head.
'What is so urgent, Commander Dofine?' Gunray asked.
'Viceroy, it is my sad duty to report that the Revenue has been seized by members of the Nebula Front.
The cargo of lom — mite ore floats in space, and, even as we speak, an explosive device counts down the moments to the ship's destruction.' Realizing that he had forgotten to peel the timer from the back of his hand, Dofine retracted his hand into the loose sleeve of his robe.
'So Captain Cohl strikes again,' Gunray said.
'Yes, Viceroy. But I bring news of an even more distressing nature.'
Dofine glanced around him, in the hope that Lagard was out of earshot, but, of course, he wasn't. 'The cache of au — rodium ingots,' he said at last. 'Cohl somehow knew about it. I had no recourse but to turn it over to him.'
Expecting rebuke or worse, Dofine hung his head in shame as he trailed the mechno-chair. But the viceroy surprised him.
'The lives of you and your crew were at stake.' 'Just so, Excellency.'
'Then stand tall, Commander Dofine,' Gunray said.
